Work Text:
Prithee, she spoke. Hark! Evermore’s tail end.
Fain splayed upon most gentle arms. Glass marked.
Perchance avaunt her most gentle thoughts with a shatter.
Not of gratefulness to a most deserving
A one who wont to help
But to a knave and wench to whom she bit her thumb
Weary her heart, grave weight to gage, but course
Forbear envy, those ones, haply hiss insult.
The seal burns bright as flame, ash ruins the free
Physic failed to mend that was buried deep
And still! Louts sharp’d their knives to maim her prize!
A prize denied through cries. Heavy are the
Steps of dogs who are artificially kept
To hail owners who hap to helm their deaths
Cruelly inflicting last walks of frail life
“...Mimi, eyes up, focus on my face,” a panicked voice cries, a spark of life lies.
…
Widow, that man, ring daintily ring hang
Young fools they were but now he hath her storm
Fetal her pose, sap sucked from heart, and she
Waited for friends to show play’s most value
Her love reaching but reciprocate not
And still she learned the understudy doth
Enough not to keep the passion and stay
And O! As selfish wish a funeral be
It was granted to her, friends gathered
But it not solve the issue that plagued now
A dove bearing such war not peace and a
Ginger, blood red violence in her visage
Lurking round the bend to harrowing bodies end
How dare this man think ‘bout her fragile skin
When there were more troubles stalking within
This town she could not wait to leave rot bare
Spread wings anew not dove not cardinal
But with azure a mark thy made on her.
“Mimi? You ok?” The ragg’d voice anew, sweet as the sundew.
“… A plague upon the founding of this town.”